


four minutes

by thunderylee



Category: Kanjani8 (Band)
Genre: Canon Universe, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-30
Updated: 2008-04-30
Packaged: 2019-02-05 13:03:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12795165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Hina’s anger could cause a nuclear meltdown. Really.





	four minutes

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck. written for the blind eito challenge 2008.

It’s almost impossible to look intimidating while wearing a lavender Renjaa costume, but Hina manages, at least in his own humble opinion. “Stop screwing around!” he roars, standing with his hands on his hips. “We have four minutes before we go back on stage. If we only had four minutes to save the world, would you be behaving like this?”

“I’d be behaving much worse,” Subaru inputs, adjusting his helmet.

Yoko folds his arms disapprovingly. “Nasu is right. We need to get in the mindset of Eito Renjaa! Everyone to the stage!”

Hina smirks proudly as the others file out, at least until he counts five brightly-colored helmets instead of six. He turns to see the green one regarding him in amusement, and right when he’s about to toss him some choice words, he’s pulled to the side and staring up at the freckled face at a much closer distance.

As the youngest, Ohkura has a certain demeanor that commands attention. It’s the thing that annoys Hina the most about him, yet he’s the one who’s the most affected by it. He never knows what’s going to come out of Ohkura’s mouth; even with the most serious of expressions, something sarcastic will be said and Hina will feel stupid for thinking that Ohkura actually wanted to talk to him about something important.

This is another one of those times, except that instead of speaking Ohkura’s doing something else with his mouth. Hina makes an undignified squeaking noise as Ohkura’s lips touch his, lingering long enough to be intentional before slowly pulling away and looking at him expectantly.

Hina still feels stupid, but only because he’d just started to kiss back when Ohkura stopped. The man who speaks a mile a minute is suddenly without words, gaping at Ohkura in that green ranger suit while feeling like all of his secrets are being sucked out of his memories by those probing eyes.

“That’s what I’d do if we only had four minutes to save the world,” Ohkura says casually. “To calm your ass down.”

He too turns to leave and join the others on stage. Hina watches him go, realizing after the fact that his gaze had drifted downwards completely voluntarily. Instead of feeling ashamed, embarrassed, or even acknowledging the tingle that remains on his lips, Hina focuses his emotions into unjustified anger because Ohkura’s gotten the best of him yet again.

As Hina prepares to save the world yet again, he’s already planning his revenge.

.

NewS’ Koyama Keiichiro may claim that his group has the most member love in the jimusho, but all seven active members of Kanjani8 respectfully disagree. They have insider information courtesy of Ryo-chan, and very rarely do all six members of NewS gather together after a concert for no other reason than to enjoy each other’s company after a long night of hard work.

Tokyo concerts usually end at Ohkura’s apartment, the ‘home away from home’ for those of them who still live in Osaka and don’t want to make the long commute. Ohkura’s place is the typical university-age bachelor’s pad, furnished with lots of places to sit, a surplus of video games and adult movies, and an endless supply of beer in the fridge.

There’s an actual bedroom for when Ohkura wants his privacy, but he only sleeps there when he’s alone. Hina knows that while the sheets are silk and sexy, Ohkura hasn’t yet shared them with anyone else. While he’s had as many girls as the next idol, there haven’t been any who were worth waking up next to. Hina could probably say that for all of them, but Ohkura seems the most distant of them all. Growing up a rich kid had turned him into kind of a snob who doesn’t know how to share his life with someone. He’s gotten better at opening up to his bandmates, but none of them have really attempted to penetrate the emotional bubble that constantly surrounds him.

That last thought makes Hina shiver a little, but only because of the word “penetrate.”

“Are you cold, Murakami-kun?” Ohkura asks in a way that would seem polite to others, but to Hina’s ears it’s defiant. “Shall I get you a blanket?”

Yoko snickers, but Yoko’s also an asshole and within pillow-throwing distance. Hina feels better for about five seconds until he realizes he has to lean against the arm of the couch now while Yoko has _two_ pillows to prop his head up and watch Yasu and Maru play Wii.

He’d never answered Ohkura, but a blanket is tossed over him anyway. Ohkura pats him on the head like a fucking dog as he plops down next to him, handing a beer to Subaru on the other side of him before grabbing a little bit of the blanket for himself.

Hina offers a sideways glance and Ohkura smirks. “I’m cold too.”

“You’re crabby, Hina,” Subaru observes, resting the beer on top of Yasu’s head as the latter leans back on the floor between his legs. “Is it that time of the month?”

Hina’s run out of things to throw, but he can reach around Ohkura and get Subaru quite nicely in the back of the head. Except that Subaru’s smarter than that and ducks out of the way, causing Hina to lose his momentum and nearly fall over onto Ohkura.

Before the rage can flood through his nerves, Ohkura’s hands are on him, gently pushing him up and back into his seat. Hina meets his eyes a little uncertainly, the sensations from the kiss earlier returning in full force, and the corners of Ohkura’s lips turn up into something like a smirk, like he knows what Hina’s thinking. “I thought I told you calm down.”

Hina would be offended, but Ohkura’s practically in his lap, laying his head on Hina’s shoulder and swinging his legs over Hina’s thighs so they can both share the blanket. His heartbeat races and he knows Ohkura can hear it, although if the younger man notices at all, he’s keeping it to himself. Ohkura’s own heartbeat is slow, relaxed, in direct contrast to Hina’s but he wouldn’t expect any less from a drummer.

“Calm down,” he repeats, a whisper this time, unheard over the others’ chatter and the background music Yoko had helped himself to. A finger trails down Hina’s arm, hidden by the blanket, and Hina shivers again. “You’re not really cold, are you?”

A quick survey of the room shows Ryo passed out and Yasu halfway there while Maru and Subaru are trying to drink each other under the table. Yoko’s playing referee but failing because he’s biased, and either way Hina knows he doesn’t have to worry about that guy. Yoko knows him better than anyone, probably knows what he’s thinking before Hina does himself. Therefore he completely blames Yoko for Ohkura’s hitch of breath when he leans down and brushes their lips together, because honestly Yoko should have warned him it was coming.

He means for it to be a quick kiss, just like before, but apparently Ohkura has other plans. A tongue sweeps against his, and like it was choreographed their heads are tilting, accommodating, turning the peck into something serious that even Ohkura can’t walk away from this time. From the looks of things he doesn’t want to, what with the way his arm slides up Hina’s chest to wrap around his neck and his body turns around to get closer.

Everybody can see and neither one of them appears to care, because it feels so good when their tongues touch and Hina really likes it when Ohkura makes that mewling sound in the back of his throat. His arms move to embrace the man in his lap, kissing him like he’s in love and maybe he is for right now. He’s not sure if this counts as revenge, but technically he’s shutting Ohkura up and it’s good enough for him.

Suddenly Ohkura pulls away and turns his neck as far as it will go, delivering the nastiest close-lidded glare Hina has ever seen cross his face. “Fuck _off_ ,” he tells an all too gleeful Subaru, who continues to poke him in the back with an ornery grin while Yasu’s fast asleep between his legs. “Don’t you see I’m trying to save the world here?”

Hina chuckles and takes advantage of Ohkura’s position by pressing his lips into his neck, tightening his hold on Ohkura when he loses some of his edge and slumps back against him. He nibbles along the skin and flicks his tongue over the indents he creates, chuckling when Subaru replies, “You’re not doing a very good job. It looks like the world is going to eat you.”

If Ohkura has a verbal response to that, Hina doesn’t catch it. Yoko’s trying to get his attention from behind – he knows it’s Yoko because he’s tugging on alternate strands of Hina’s hair like he’s milking a cow – and Hina’s blatantly ignoring him, concentrating on the task at hand, the purpose of which has been long since buried under the blinding desire to wipe the smirk off of Ohkura’s face.

“Hina-chan,” Yoko sings, moving Hina’s hair like it’s talking to him and not Yoko. “What are you doing?”

“Winning,” Hina murmurs, dragging his teeth along the top of Ohkura’s spine and smiling at how Ohkura’s body shudders in his arms.

Ohkura sighs in a way that’s both pleasant and exasperated. “I don’t suppose you guys would leave, or at least pretend to be sleeping?”

Maru immediately falls to his side, faking a snore and looking to all the world like he had just keeled over into a deep slumber.

“Convincing,” Hina comments. “But unfortunately, I’m kind of loud.”

“He is,” Yoko assures everyone, because he would know.

“Tacchon,” says Subaru slowly, “don’t you have a perfectly good bed behind closed doors?”

Ohkura doesn’t answer right away, and Hina knows what he’s thinking. He’s never had someone else in his bed, and game or not, Hina’s not going to be the first. He tries not to let the thought sadden him, although in the fuzzy state of his mind he’s not quite sure why it should bother him at all. It wouldn’t be the first time that something like this has happened in front of his bandmates, but _this_ he wants to be private. Because it’s Ohkura, because it’s a challenge. Because he doesn’t know what will come out of his mouth in the midst of passion and, most of all, he doesn’t want witnesses if he’s rejected.

After all of that thinking, Ohkura once again makes him feel like he wasted his time hyping himself up for nothing by jumping to his feet and dragging him across the room. Hina’s pulled through the bedroom door and bouncing on the soft mattress before his brain can catch up with him, and it only gets a few seconds of airtime before it’s shoved back into the clouds as Ohkura pounces him and fuses their mouths together.

Ohkura tastes much better when they’re alone, less uncertainty and more persistence. He gently pushes Hina’s thighs apart and settles between them, rocking slow enough to have Hina grabbing his hips and rolling his own for more. Hina thinks that the tables may have been turned but he’s still the one in control, at least until Ohkura’s hands slide up his chest and play with his nipples, at which time Hina is pretty sure he gives up all rights to be called a man with the way he moans into Ohkura’s mouth.

His lips are cold as Ohkura pulls away and Hina opens his eyes, seeing even in the dark the doting look Ohkura’s giving him. There are fingers tugging on Hina’s shirt and Hina lifts his arms to accommodate, watching the garment disappear over his head just before Ohkura lowers his head to tongue a nipple.

Hina’s nails dig into Ohkura’s hips, holding him still as he bucks up against him like he’s actually fucking him. He feels Ohkura’s hardness rub against his in the violent friction, so strong that Hina has to toss his head back and groan out the pressure that’s quickly accumulating within him. “Tacchon…”

“Shh,” Ohkura whispers, licking his way down the center of Hina’s chest until he reaches his waistline. “Let me.”

Hina doesn’t think all of the crazy fangirls in Asia could keep him from stopping Ohkura’s lips pressing into the bulge of his jeans, his fingers deftly popping the button and lowering the zip. “I don’t know why you’re doing this,” he says, all breath and no voice, “but please don’t stop.”

“I told you,” Ohkura responds, a little testily but Hina forgives him since he’s sliding down his pants and eyeing his cock hungrily as it springs free. “I’m saving the world.”

Ohkura’s declaration is followed by his warm, moist mouth enveloping him and reducing him to a strangled moan of epic proportions. He’s sure the others in the main room must have heard it, along with a good number of Ohkura’s neighbors and probably most of Tokyo. Surprisingly Ohkura doesn’t hush him, only hollows his cheeks and gets to work, sucking him in like a vacuum and using his tongue on the upstroke. Both of Hina’s hands relocate into Ohkura’s hair, twisting and tangling, and he can tell Ohkura likes it by the way he groans around him.

The vibrations seem to soar through every nerve in Hina’s body and make him dizzy, his outcries moving up in pitch as Ohkura goes faster and trails both sets of hands down his inner thighs. Hina’s pushing up into his mouth, pushing down on his head, and Ohkura’s letting him, grunting for his own reasons that are most likely why the bed feels like it’s rocking. The thought of Ohkura getting off against the mattress has him ready to explode, an urge that he thought he could keep away for awhile, at least until Ohkura takes in his entire length and swallows around him.

People in Alaska had to hear this moan, the mangled version of Ohkura’s first name that comes from deep in his lungs as he tightens his fingers in Ohkura’s scalp and releases down his throat. Credibly Ohkura doesn’t choke, only licks his lips as he crawls up Hina’s body and rests his chin on his chest, rising and falling with each desperate breath Hina sucks in and harshly pushes out.

When the stars disappear from his vision, he opens his eyes only to be greeted with that goddamn smirk once again. “Did you enjoy that, Murakami-kun?”

Fucking him into the mattress is no longer an option, therefore Hina has to go with the verbal attack. “Not as much as I enjoyed you humping the bed.”

“Noticed that, did you?” Ohkura slides up the rest of the way and licks Hina’s lips, taking the bottom one between his teeth until he decides to give it back in order to speak. “This isn’t over yet.”

A retort is on the tip of his tongue, which is immediately seized by Ohkura and fades away to a small whimper. Hina’s body is oversensitive, each touch of Ohkura’s fingers on his sides making him jolt. He feels Ohkura’s erection digging into his hip and it’s empowering, solely because Hina takes responsibility for it. Ohkura’s hard because of him and somehow it’s a thousand times better than just putting him in his place.

Ohkura’s hands move down to his thighs, applying pressure to the inner muscles that automatically spread for him. Hina’s eyes fly open, the reality of what’s happening crashing down on him in his post-coital comfort, and he opens his mouth to speak, to protest, to refuse-

And Ohkura kisses him, softly like a lover, massaging his tongue in a way that’s comforting as he reaches into his bedside drawer. “I’ll make a deal with you,” Ohkura whispers against his lips, covering up the pop of the cap with a deep groan. “If you don’t ask for it, I won’t give it to you.”

Hina considers this, although his body makes the decision for him by arching and gasping traitorously as Ohkura approaches his most intimate area with a slick finger. Ohkura’s kiss turns fierce, distracting Hina with his lips and tongue until he pokes inside and Hina yelps.

“Relax,” Ohkura says. “Haven’t you done this before?”

“Not on this… end,” Hina manages to reply, his fists clenching the sheets on either side of him as he tries to keep from enjoying it.

Ohkura’s eyes flash, something between power and arousal that Hina thinks he hates worse than any expression that’s ever adorned his face before. “It’s up to me, then,” Ohkura says quietly, inserting another finger and kissing Hina’s eyes when he cringes. “I have the fate of the world in my hands.”

Hina isn’t sure what getting fucked has to do with saving the world, but he’s not really in a position to debate. He can’t pretend it doesn’t feel good when Ohkura bends his fingers and strokes a spot inside him that makes him cry out. Surprisingly Ohkura doesn’t chuckle or say anything pretentious, only prods the gland again and again until Hina’s screaming a string of incomprehensible syllables and pushing back despite his reservations. He feels Ohkura moving against him with intent, groaning softly into his neck and using his free hand to grasp onto Hina’s shoulder.

“Shingo,” he gasps. “You’re driving me crazy.”

It’s a good enough admission for Hina, who declares victory by coming alive and stripping Ohkura of his clothes before positioning him between his legs. Ohkura looks a little self-conscious, covering his stomach with his arms until Hina pries them apart and lifts his face, pulling him down for a kiss that conveys anything he’d want to say. His legs rise to his chest, resting along Ohkura’s ribs as the latter fumbles with the tube and shakily coats his own length.

“Hey,” Hina says quietly, lifting Ohkura’s chin yet again to meet his eyes. “I think I like you better when you’re overconfident.”

“Tell me you want it,” Ohkura says, and it’s more of a request for reassurance then a demand for compliance. “Tell me you want _me_.”

Hina pushes Ohkura’s hair out of his eyes, leaning up to brush their lips together briefly. “You’re not going to chicken out at the last minute, are you? The world is counting on you.”

Ohkura laughs, his tone becoming more certain as he grips Hina’s hips in his hands and kneels before him. Hina watches his face as it scrunches up in anticipation, his bottom lip between his teeth until he starts pushing inside. Hina’s prepared and relaxed, and honestly it doesn’t hurt as much as he thought it would, but Ohkura looks like he’s the one in pain.

“Tacchon,” Hina says, his voice a bit strained. “It’s okay.”

Ohkura’s eyes pop open, and he regards Hina with an expression Hina hasn’t yet seen from him – respect. He obediently nods and struggles to focus on Hina as he buries himself all the way in. Hina hisses, covering Ohkura’s hands with his own to show that he’s okay, don’t stop, even if he feels very full. The way Ohkura’s throbbing inside him seems to give Hina more power than if he were actually the one on top. He wonders if this is how it feels for girls when they close themselves around the man inside them, taking pride in the way they can make him shudder and fall apart.

One look at Ohkura’s eyes tells Hina that he’s already won. Gently he urges Ohkura’s hands forwards and backwards, silently asking him to move, and Ohkura does. It’s slow and tentative, but since Hina’s still opening up to him, the gradual pace is welcome. He’s breathing in soft puffs through his mouth, lips parted like he can’t keep them closed, guiding Ohkura with their hands until he’s ready to go faster.

It’s difficult to maintain eye contact, but the way Ohkura’s staring at him makes Hina want to use all of his energy to do it. Hina’s hold loosens until he’s pretty much just hanging on, feeling Ohkura levitate his hips before pounding into him, and that’s when it starts to feel good. Ohkura’s groaning with every exhale, beads of sweat forming on his forehead and making his hair stick to his face. Hina arches and screams out Ohkura’s first name when his spot is grazed, his muscles tightening around Ohkura and making him very aware of Ohkura’s pulse inside him.

“Shingo,” Ohkura mumbles, his head falling forward before tossing back as he thrusts more sharply. “Fuck, this is… this is…”

“Yeah,” Hina agrees, and even though he doesn’t know exactly what Ohkura’s talking about, he knows that he feels the same way. This just _is_ , with Hina pushing back at the same speed that Ohkura’s pushing in and the way it feels when Ohkura’s deep inside. He’s hard again, but he can’t manage to move his hands enough to touch himself and mutters incoherent pleas instead.

Ohkura doesn’t notice at first, but then Hina lets out a very unabashed whine and Ohkura finally looks down between them. He reaches for it without a second thought, his rhythm unfaltering, and Hina wouldn’t have expected anything less. He keeps up the same pace as his fingers wrap around Hina, not rushing but not teasing either. Hina doesn’t think it matters either way, especially since he loses it the next time Ohkura hits his prostate. His entire body tenses, the additional stimulation pushing his orgasm up to the next level and keeping him there for considerably longer than normal.

Hina’s still coherent enough to feel Ohkura come right after, trying to push through the suffocating resistance of Hina’s body and going over the edge himself. He grips tightly onto Hina’s hips and lets out a quiet, low groan in complete contrast to Hina’s loud wailing. His hold loosens as they both come down, breathing heavily and becoming more aware of the reality.

“We’re in your bed,” Hina wheezes, wincing as he attempts to stretch out his legs.

Ohkura automatically lowers both hands to rub the sore muscles of Hina’s thighs, still struggling to catch his breath. He looks up at Hina and smiles, an actual smile with no malicious intent behind it, and Hina thinks it’s the best he’s ever looked. “A small sacrifice to pay for saving the world.”

Hina chuckles, his mind clear and his body relaxed under Ohkura’s touch. “We’ll have to work on your time, kid. That was nowhere near four minutes.”

Laughter fills his ears as Ohkura falls to the side, curling up next to Hina as he directs the sounds into Hina’s shoulder. “It got you to calm down, didn’t it?”

“Are you going to do this every time I get pissed?” Hina asks.

“Maybe,” Ohkura replies. “Saving the world is a never-ending job, after all.”

The smirk is back, but Hina wouldn’t have it any other way.


End file.
